


Esme

by DurmundStrang



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:47:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27900979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DurmundStrang/pseuds/DurmundStrang
Summary: He believed the sun rose for her. She believed they would grow old together.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 2





	Esme

**Author's Note:**

> An idea I’ve had in my head. Please let me know what you think.

Her father was a cold man. He had not always been. The first war had left its mark on every wizard and witch in England in one way or another. When her mother died a few years after its end, it pushed him over the brink. He retreated into himself and became the shell of a man he once was. That was until one day when she was around the age of seven. He had come home after one of his business trips to Scotland, more elated than she had ever seen him. He had called out for her the second that he has stepped through the grand entrance doors. She had abandoned her governess and ran down the halls as fast as she could to meet him. A smile lit up his face, she loved when her father smiled, it rarely happened. He had scooped her up and swirled her around and she would forever cherish that moment as one of the happiest that they had ever been.

The air had been different when she woke up the morning after. She had woken up by herself, usually her governess, Mrs Boone, would be there coaxing her out of sleep or one of the house elves. She was met by a peculiar sight when she had finally made her way to the dining room. Her father was sitting at the head of the table eating breakfast and reading the morning newspaper as usual. What was unexpected was the woman that was sitting next to him. Her father had beckoned her over, the cheeriest that she had ever heard him, and motioned for her to sit. She was hesitant, dragged her feet as she walked towards him. It was not the norm for them to have guests over, and the woman was very clearly not Mrs Boone. Her father helped her sit on one of the large chairs and happily stated that the woman was her mother. She had not known how to feel, having been told that her mother passed away a year after she had been born. But she had not been old enough to doubt her father’s words. It was not until much later that she realised what dark magic her father had dabbled with in order to bring her mother back.

They had been happy the weeks that followed. Their days were filled with more laughter than ever and she experienced, what she would assume was, a normal childhood. Her mother was a wonderful storyteller, she could sit there for hours, hanging on to every word as she spoke. And then one day, everything changed. The air had once again changed when she woke up that morning. She had, despite little time having gone past, gotten used to the static feel that had been in the air since her mother’s arrival. And now it was if it had disappeared completely. Breakfast was not a happy affair. Her mother was staring into nothingness, completely motionless and her father was staring at her mother as if she had stolen all joy from the world. She had looked between her parents in wonder, not daring to say a word.

Her mother never returned to normal after that, and then one day she did not join them for breakfast. Mrs Boone had woken her up that morning, and it was if the happiest days of her life, had never happened. However, her father never went on his business trips again, he stayed at home, always cooped up in his study. He was always at home, yet she had never felt as without him. She would sometimes sit outside his door and listen to what he was doing in there. She could hear him muttering to himself, shuffling around papers, and sometimes cursing loudly. Whenever she gained the courage to ask him to play with her, he would always dismiss her saying that he was too busy with work

The years passed quickly after that. Her relationship with her father stayed the same, distant. He had always been a man on a mission. All her life he had looked for the supposed impossible; the ability to resurrect the dead. He found it eventually, the myth that everybody believed to be nothing but a children’s story. The resurrection stone that was not a stone anymore, per say, but had now taken the form of a much more easily concealed ring. She used to always admire that ring on his finger, he could sit and caress it for hours on end, staring out the window. But the longer he wore it, the madder he got. His temper was unpredictable, he had started to develop characteristics that she had never seen in him before. It was like he constantly had a kink in his neck that he could never get out. Mrs Boone was the closest person to her that showed any hint of affection, but still, she hated the woman. The old lady was harsh, it was as if she enjoyed correcting every single thing that she did. Everything was repeated over and over again until perfection was achieved. She had to be perfect, always, it was imperative in order to find a husband according to Mrs Boone. She was not sure she ever wanted a husband if it required her to be as rigid and cold as Mrs Boone wanted her to be.

She had expected that she would be happy the day that she got her letter from Hogwarts but that was not the case. Instead, she was filled with great apprehension at the thought of leaving home, the place where she felt so safe. It was after all, all that she had known, there were brief moments when they would leave the house for a day or so. But these moments were rare and far in-between, her father was not so keen on leaving for longer than absolutely necessary. If it was not for Mrs Boone insisting on that it was imperative for her to interact with kids her own age, they would have most likely never left the house at all.

Her father became more talkative as the days drew closer to September 1. Telling her over and over how important it was for her to be in Slytherin, that it was important to not be like his father. It was rare for her father to talk about her grandfather. She had come to understand that they had a falling out years before she was born. She did not know what it was about entirely, her father simply stated that they did not see eye to eye on a certain topic. Blood purity was an important subject for her father. He would tell her stories about the first wizarding war, how half-bloods and mudbloods had overthrown the Dark Lord as he was on a quest to do what was right, to clean the world of all its filth. It had caused her to look forward even more to leaving for Hogwarts. Her father could go quite mad on rampages regarding blood ideologies.

She was sorted into Slytherin once she arrived at Hogwarts, as to be expected. Both her parents had been proud Slytherins, the sorting hat had recognised that the second it was placed on her head. The dormitory she shared with 3 other girls the same year was surprisingly spacious, to her relief. She was not sure how she would have been able to handle it otherwise. Her home in Dorset had not been overly grandiose by any means. However, a large forest had been her back yard and sometimes she would successfully sneak out and wander aimlessly. Freedom, however little was available to her, was vital. 

\----------

They had first met in the library over Christmas break in her fifth year. Most of their peers had chosen to go home for the Christmas break. She was surprised to see him sitting across the room from her. Although, when she thought about it maybe it was not all that strange. They both most likely had similar reasons for staying behind this year. It was safer for them.

She could feel his gaze lingering on her skin. It was like a gentle breeze rushing over her, giving her goosebumps and causing the hair at the back of her neck to raise. She had tried ignoring it at first, she was good at ignoring things. But it seemed to be an impossible task, she had been reading the same page over and over again for the better half of an hour. She did not know why he was staring, despite being in the same house they had not really had much interaction. She tended to keep to her group of friends, and he his. There were instances when their friendship groups would briefly interact, but these moments were few and far in between. It mostly occurred due to Astoria Greengrass attempting to infiltrate her sister’s social life. Her attempts were, however, not as successful as she would have liked.

She finally gave up on attempting to read the page she had been stuck on. She let out a quiet sigh as she closed the book before looking up and connecting her eyes with his. He only looked surprised for a brief second before a wicked grin spread across his face. She was not quite sure that she had ever seen him smile so broadly before. He was, after all, not exactly well known for having a bright personality.

His eyes were something else, the complete opposite of her own. They stood out in contrast against his skin and hair, this unbelievable blue that she could imagine herself drowning in. She now understood why so many of the girls at Hogwarts would giddily giggle as they whispered to each other about him. It was like looking into his eyes made her forget everything. Made her want nothing more than to be the one to hold his affections.

His smile made her furrow her eyebrows, and subconsciously lift a hand to a face. Running a hand over one of her cheeks softly, attempting to feel if there was something there that was the cause for his amusement. When she felt nothing, she raised her eyebrow slightly, silently challenging him. He did not say anything, however. Her eyes drifted to his hands, he was twirling his own quill in his hands, back and forth over his knuckles. She briefly looked around them, confirming that they were indeed alone before returning her gaze to meet his. His unrelenting stare almost made her want to flee the library. Almost.

He abruptly placed his quill onto the table in front of him before pushing his chair back. It was so heavy that it made an awful noise as it dragged against the stone floor. He was incredibly tall. Taller than her by more than a head, and she would count herself as being fairly tall. But, everything is relative.

“I was wondering who had been sneaking around in the dungeons” His voice was teasing. There was not a trace of the malice that it was usually laced with when she heard him in the halls. His words caused a blush to spread over her cheeks, she had been trying to avoid the only other Slytherin student that had stayed at Hogwarts for winter break. Without Astoria by her side, she was not quite as interested to make conversation with the upperclassmen.

“I haven’t been sneaking around” Her own voice was not quite as strong as she had hoped it would be. She cleared it slightly, there was a slight croak to it after not having used it all day.

“If you say so” There was a hint of mischievousness in his eyes as he invited himself to sit down at her table. She was surprised at his seemingly good mood that had no sign of turning sour. It was no secret in the Slytherin house that he had changed significantly over the past term. His usual short temper had been cut in half, and the common room would clear quickly if he ever came storming in. This was however not that often. He had started spending less and less time socialising since his arrival in September, he had turned into a bit of a recluse.

“Are you okay?” Her question had shocked them both. She had not meant to ask it, but she did not enjoy being the obvious focus of his attention.

He did not look okay. The bags under his eyes were as dark as she had ever seen them on a person. It was quite obvious that sleep was not something that was coming easy to him. He fidgeted slightly at her question, looking uncomfortable as she looked at him with concern. He chose to ignore her question however, asking her his own.

“What is your name? You are a friend of Daphne’s sister, aren’t you?”

“I am Esme”


End file.
